I Need A Hero
by jadepopsicle61496
Summary: Something is wrong with America, and Russia wants to know just what it is. Fortunately for him, America is desperate enough to tell everything to the #1 person on his "Most Hated" list. But what if Russia proves to be exactly what he needs?
1. Chapter 1

"ALL OF YOU BE QUIET ALREADY!"

Of course, nobody listened to the booming voice, choosing to continue their conversations or run around screaming about types of foods. A blond male slumped down into his seat with an exasperated sigh. These breakouts of insanity during the World Conferences had become more  
common recently, and now even Germany couldn't keep anyone under control.

America was trying to make an important point about something his scientists had discovered about global warming, and England had interrupted halfway through by saying some stupid word "only snobby British people" use. Then France had piped in about something completely irrelevant, and it had all went downhill from there.

The blond groaned and rubbed his temple with his fingers, a frown creasing his forehead.

"What's wrong, America?" a childish voice a few feet away chimed him back into reality. He looked up at the violet eyes responsible.

"Eh, Russia?" he hesitated, looking down and reshuffling his notes that contained more doodles of England and France getting stabbed than actual notes. "Um no, uh, nothing's wrong. Err, why would you think there's something wrong?" America said, rushing ever so slightly at the end of his sentence.

Russia giggled softly, leaning over the glossy table, keeping his hands in his lap. "I just happened to notice how less eccentric you've been acting the last conference or so. You were less hyper than usual at the missile pact as well."

"Well, nothing's wrong. I'm perfectly... Perfectly dandy, okay?" America said, straining to smile at the taller blond to prove his point.

Russia cocked his head and a concerned look took over his features. "America, are you--" a loud bang across the table cut I'm of mid-sentence.

"I AM TIRED OF THIS! EVERYONE, SIT BACK DOWN AND SHUT UP! ITALIA,  
PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON THIS INSTANT! Now, it is China's turn to speak, so I will give him the floor and I expect all of you to SHUT IT AND LISTEN!" Germany screamed; he had finally managed to get everybody's attention and apparently it was going to stay that way.

China had started to speak, glaring a hole through America's forehead when he mentioned how he was expecting the money people owed him soon. The blond sank even lower into his seat and groaned near- silently, frowning and averting his gaze to... study the concerned look still apparent on Russia's face. The amethyst eyes tried to probe into America's own blue ones, but were met with pain and exhaustion masked with a dulled sparkle.

America shifted uncomfortably in his seat, breaking the contact by looking at his "notes" and coughing quietly. He scribbled something down inconspicuously while looking up at China, not really paying attention to the brunette's sharp glares that were still being thrown at him.

He slid the paper forward only an inch or so, drumming his slender fingers to catch the scarved man's attention. Russia flicked his eyes down and let an emotionless mask fall over his face as he read the tiny note scrawled next to a poor drawing of Italy with an arrow saying "idiot" sticking out of his face.

'white house tomorrow 5 pm'

Russia grunted quietly to get America's attention before tipping his head upwards in a nod only the other would recognize.

They both flicked their eyes back up to the front of the room to see who the speaker was, but they soon both realized that there _was_ no speaker. The room had fallen into chaos again; France and Italy were streaking, Switzerland was getting a little trigger-happy, and Germany had given up, his head on the table. About half of the nations had already left, seeing that it would be more beneficial to go to their hotel rooms and get some sleep than stay around here where nothing would get done.

Russia and America looked back at each other and silently stood up and left the room together, unnoticed.

The halls were empty; the only thing tainting the silence was the scuffing of the pairs' boots. Once they had rounded a corner, America coughed into his fist nervously, frowning, and said, "Yeah. Look, something's uh, wrong. Okay?" He opened his hands and moved them around indecisively trying to see what to do with them, before stuffing them in his tan pockets hurriedly. "I didn't know it was so obvious..."

A tiny crease appeared and disappeared in an instant between Russia's eyebrows. "I believe I am the only one to have noticed, everyone else is much too preoccupied with their own problems to notice or care about yours." America let out a quick breath, almost a huff, of some emotion similar to anger. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the other adding to his previous comment, "Although, I'm pretty sure England has noticed, the way he's been extra caring to you lately. In fact, he's far too caring towards you as it is than should be expected from a brother."

America stopped, now only meters from the door, his boots squeaking against the shiny wooden floors of the building. His mouth hung open and he was hunched over; a look of comical disbelief had fallen over his face. "You think England _likes_ me?"

"Romantically? Yes. Although I'm not the only one to come to this conclusion. Most of the others who were at the World Conference today have thought the same thing as well." Russia made a point to smile down on the American.

"But h-he's my _brother_! What the hell?"

"Must I remind you that you and England are not actually related? You don't have a single drop of shared blood with him." Russia said, the smile of a five-year-old taking over his pale features.

America picked up his jaw off of the marble floor. "Well... Damn, this sucks. It just adds to the fact that he would never leave me alone if... if he ever found out that... something's bothering me." America said, looking down at his feet. Russia had to strain to hear the end of his sentence, which had gone down to a near-silent mumble.

"America?" Russia said, eyes going half-lidded.

"Yeah?" The other blond mumbled, keeping his head down.

"...I'll be there tomorrow, okay? But for now... go home and get some sleep." America looked up at the taller nation, and Russia finally noticed just how bad he looked. The skin under his eyes was very thin and bruised. His eyes themselves, once a bright, "heroic" shade of blue, were now dull and missing their daring sparkle. Even his hair was limp and lifeless, and had changed into an ugly shade of dirty-blond, versus the usual full, golden locks that he once had.

America nodded softly, and moved to push open the thick glass doors. Russia clenched his teeth at how the younger nation struggled to move the doors, and how violently he shivered when he was met with an onslaught of wind from a Maryland winter. It was pathetic; and as much as the Russian hated to admit it to himself, America was most definitely one of the _least _pathetic people he had ever met.

Just as Russia was about to lose sight of him, America had shot him a glance that the taller man had only ever seen on the older nations. As if he felt and understood every pain anyone had ever felt. As if he had the world and all its burdens on his shoulders.

Ukraine and Belarus found Russia fifteen minutes later staring out into the streets, having not moved an inch since America had left.

**Author's Comments:** I wrote this about a month ago, and I didn't like how it came out, but I left it saved on my computer anyways. So about half an hour ago, I decide to read it again because I couldn't find anything else that I wanted to read. I kinda edited and added to it, and then decided I felt like posting it.

Yes it will have more chapters, just how many I don't know. I'm the world's biggest procrastinator so don't expect really frequent updates. Also, updates will probably be extremely sporadic. It all depends on my homework load and if I have anything going on in my social life or not. It also depends on the evil writer's block.

Thank you so much for reading this :)


	2. Chapter 2

"Fascinating."

Russia peered at the luscious grass and bright flowers that separated him from the White House in a sea of green. He looked distinctly out of place; thick tan coat ever-present on his body, light pink scarf flapping in the gentle summer breeze. Even more out of place was his icy smile that was enough to keep the bees from buzzing within several feet of him. _It isn't as if I'm going to attack them or anything, _he thought. Actually, Russia was intent on staying exactly where he was, positioned quite far from the actual White House.

In fact, he was so intent on staying exactly where he was, that he would have not noticed the yellow dot appear in the edge of his vision if said dot had not suddenly grown two tan arms that had a habit of waving around obnoxiously. Russia's smile widened considerably as he made his way over to the blob of color, the Circle of Isolation the bees and butterflies had given him moving as well.

"America~"

A blond head poked out from behind the edge of the White House, a deep frown creasing the skin in between his eyes that matched the cloudless blue sky above. _'That is SO fitting for today, isn't it?' _America thought bitterly. He looked directly at the Russian standing God-knows-how-far-away, looking as if he were some new statue his boss had decided to put in to commemorate the nuclear bomb-pact thing. He also looked like he was trying to freeze the building in front of him with only his gaze.

America wouldn't be surprised if the lawn froze as well.

To prevent the entire world from freezing over, he waved his arms in such a way as to attract as much of the statue's attention away from his house and to himself. Russia finally seemed to move in a very non-statue-like way, and moved quickly over to America's spot against the side of the White House. Wait, he couldn't possibly be...

_'No. No way in hell is Russia SKIPPING across the lawn. He could not POSSIBLY be THAT MUCH of an idiot as to...'_

Yes, Russia was skipping across the lawn, seeming to like to call attention to himself at the _worst possible time._ America literally slapped himself to get himself away from his own thoughts and back into focusing on... Russia again. Which only resulting in America's jaw falling open.

It seemed as if all of the sun's light was pointed directly to the larger man as he _skipped_ across the grassy lawn. It made his snow-white skin glow attractively; made his hair gleam in such a way it resembled a heavenly halo. The many folds in the pink scarf ends that trailed behind him caught the light in such a way they resembled a pair of feathered wings. He looked so... so...

"America~"

And then Russia was standing right in front of him, icy smile bearing down on him, shattering the angelic illusion occupying the American's thoughts only moments before. He closed his jaw that, he realized, had been open for far too long.

He stared up at the large man who was most certainly _not_ an angel, grabbed his thick, cold hand, and pulled him sharply past the alabaster walls awash with golden afternoon light. "We can get to my room faster this way, we won't have to deal with as many people asking us what we're doing." He mumbled.

Russia nodded, lavender eyes wide with a childish curiosity as they entered through a side-back-door. They were in some unnamed hallway, red embroidered carpet gracing the smooth tile floor. Several portraits, mostly paintings, hung on the otherwise empty walls. They turned a corner onto an almost identical hallway before coming to a stop at a rather ordinary-looking door. America fumbled with the golden knob before opening it to reveal a rather tidy-looking room that was much larger than the door would suggest. All of the papers in his desk were either properly filed in the "IN" and "OUT" boxes, or were stacked neatly nearby.

Russia opened a random drawer next to him, regardless of the American's protests. "Even the underwear is color-coordinated..."

"For your sake, I'm going to pretend that never happened." America said, an exasperated sigh passing through his lips.

Russia took another look around the _extremely organized_ room. "Um, pardon my asking, America, but this room seems much too..."

"Tony." The shorter blond said, lifting his arm to gesture around the room, only to find his fingers still interlaced with Russia's.

America's face promptly turned bright red and he practically teleported to the other side of the room. The Russian man opposite merely giggled and swiveled his head around to look at the desk, in which a small gray alien had materialized behind and was now shuffling papers on.

"Tony, thanks for organizing stuff for me, but could you um, please leave us alone for a while? Oh, but could you take out my tax file?" Tony just stared blankly for a second before taking a file out of the drawer and placing it in the perfect center of the desk before padding out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

America sat down as his desk with yet another sigh, running one hand through his unusually thin hair, opening the file with the other. He scribbled a few things down, made a few unpleasant noises, and shoved it angrily back into the file drawer it had come from, only to pick out another one, titled "CITIZEN BEHAVIOR ".

Russia stood in front of America's desk, shifting uncomfortably and coughing politely. America looked up, frown disappearing momentarily. "Sorry, I totally... forgot. Err, I just really have to do these... And they're exactly the stuff that's been..."

_Bothering me._

The larger man pulled up a nearby chair, not taking his eyes off the American. He slid the file around and began to read the first page before America ripped the papers from his hands, saying, "I'd rather you... heard about it rather than... rather than read about it. Because this doesn't say a thing about how it... feels..."

Russia looked up at the pained expression on the other blond's face, trying to lock onto eyes that refused to stop studying the designs in the wood of the desk. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided instead on cautiously laying his hand on America's own. America finally flicked his eyes up to meet the other's, before taking in a deep breath that did nothing to stop the quiver in his voice.

"It feels like I'm being ripped apart all over again."

Violet eyes widened with shock. _'It was that bad?'_

"Like people are going to secede again. Just like back... back then. The abolitionists versus the slave holders. The tea party-ers versus the democrats. Yeah, there have been defining splits in my people before, but nothing this big since..."

Russia squeezed the younger man's hand, and to his surprise, he didn't pull away. "I was there, America..."

"And you're here now." America responded, smiling somberly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The thought _'Cold War' _practically hung in the air, and the awkwardness suddenly returned to the room, thick and tense.

America tried to ignore it, continuing, "And it's just the same as the Civil War. The tea party-ers are pissed because they believe their rights are crushed, and the dems are saying that it's all for the best. And I honestly don't know which is actually the 'good side'. I can feel the ripping again, with every protest, with every new tax. Remember the last time?" Russia simply nodded, seemingly genuinely worried. "It's so much worse." Blue eyes much too moist looked up to meet the lavender ones asking for continuation.

"And then there's the recession. _All_ of my people are feeling that. And it's spreading to Europe and it's _all my fault._ Everything is going wrong all at once and this time the stakes aren't just rights. It's over trillions and trillions of dollars. I can't even _fathom_ that amount of money and I'm an entire freaking country!

"And to add to all of this, there's the illegals basically invading me every freaking day! And that just adds to the split of my people! Some people hate the way it's being dealt with, some people don't give a damn... I just don't know what to do anymore..." He had his head pressed against the surface of the desk, his body shaking with halfhearted sobs. Russia could easily have taken advantage of his current state, could have made laughed at him for not being able to put up with being a country while he hadn't had to go through nearly the amount of horrors that he himself had. Could have just laughed and laughed and laughed at how much of an in-over-his-head child America was.

But Russia understood. Because America _was_ a child.

So he made his way around the desk and picked the sobbing blond up into his arms. And just _held _him. Because he knew how much a crying child needed to be held, despite him never having the same privilege.

America _was_ just a child. The human part of him doesn't downplay the fact that the nation part of him is only a fraction of the age that Russia is. He hasn't been through as much as most other countries, so he doesn't have nearly as much experience in these kinds of things. And when he has to face all of the worst and most difficult problems all at once…

Russia wouldn't blame a child for crying.

He remembers back to the time when America was going through his first Civil War (and hopefully there would be no second). He remembers staying with America since the first battle of the war. He remembers all of the agonizing screams from an already dry throat, all of the salty tears stinging the cuts all along his body. He remembers the begging in those once-blue eyes for it all to just _stop._ He remembers it all. He remembers not wanting this poor child to go through it all over again.

_Because he might end up like me._

So he held him.

* * *

**Author's Comments:** Thanks to everyone who is reading this, it makes a stressed out teen happy ;v; I kinda indulged in some slight cracky humor in the beginning, and then it gets all serious and stuff. I seem to be good at flicking between moods like a light switch ^^;

This chapter sounds like it's also the last chapter, but trust me, it's not. I still have some ideas I want to implement. I also thought I wouldn't have written this chapter so quickly, so that surprised me ^^;

Lastly, no, there's not going to be any political stuff other than what's in this chapter, and hopefully my politically biased self didn't show. This is NOT going to be a political fic, I was just trying to show exactly what's going on with America. And trust me, there's still some more stuff going on with the poor guy.

They feel kinda out-of-character for me (although America is kinda... well he's supposed to be a little) especially Russia... dammit. I really don't want him to be OOC D:

Thank you sooooo much for reading this ;v;


	3. Chapter 3

Pale eyelashes fluttered open to reveal two violet orbs, turned to slits against a band of golden light.

Russia closed his eyes again to try to move his arms out in a lazy stretch before he felt something shift against his chest. His eyelids managed to pry themselves open to peer down at the offending object.

America was curled innocently in the Russian's lap, head buried into his chest. One of the sleeping blond's hands had a light hold on his scarf; the other had Russia's pale hand in a vice-like grip. His heavy eyelids shot open as he took a sharp breath of air. _'What on Earth is going on?'_ he thought, momentarily panicking before the memories of the previous night flooding back into his head. He let out a massive sigh, a flush settling on his cheeks.

He carefully moved America off of his chest with his one hand that wasn't being crushed, and then lifted the sleeping man into his arms with ease. His eyes flitted around, unsure, before a gray alien head peeked out from behind a door, motioning him closer with his gray alien hands. Russia muttered a hurried thank you as Tony opened the door to the American's bedroom for him. He set the nation onto the bed; something in the back of his mind registered the sound of the door closing.

The paler blond sat down next to the sleeping figure, letting his mind wander back to his memories that had made him so flustered only moments ago.

America was a very young nation who had the misfortune of going through such things so fast. He had already been in a civil war once before, an he hadn't even been alive a hundred years as the United States of America at the time. Still, Russia couldn't help but feel that America was old enough now that he didn't need a shoulder to cry on when-

A hand brushed against Russia's, tearing him from his thoughts. Slim fingers curled around his pinky, which automatically squeezed back.

'America is only just a child...'

This thought occurred to him as the soft, warm fingers clung to his small, cold one. He backed away from his thoughts momentarily, not wanting to think. He slowly lifted the American back into his arms, pulling back the covers of the bedspread. He lay the blond back down, tucking him back into the blankets again.

The fingers around his pinky would not move.

Russia lifted his hand, the fingers of the other male clinging adamantly. He brought the fingers up to his mouth, laying his lips on unusually prominent knuckles. His eyes slipped closed, sitting in the pleasant silence as if time had run completely still. His lavender eyes reopened, and his lips retreated from the bony heat. America's fingers slid off of his hand, falling onto the downy comforter.

Russia's face paled; he was suddenly aware of his own heartbeat threatening to shatter his ribcage. Why had he done that? Why, why, why, why, wh-

"Russ... Russia?"

America's eyes flicked open a crack, startled by his hand falling on his stomach. He looked up at a blurred figure sitting next to him on a... bed?

"Russ... Russia?" he mumbled, still trying to get his brain to wake up and figure out why he was in a-

His eyes widened when he finally became aware of his surroundings. He looked up at what was indeed Russia who wore a startled expression on his face. America focused his sleep-ridden eyes a little closer and noticed that the sitting man's cheeks were flushed a brilliant red.

"WHY AM I IN A BE- owwww..." America yelled, but was cut off mid-sentence when he moved suddenly to strangle the life out of the taller man. He was _sore as hell._ It seemed as if every joint screamed in agony as he plopped back down on the pillow. Russia eyed him anxiously, biting his lip.

"Are you all right? Y-you must be sore from last night..." The violet-eyes man said, looking even more flustered than before.

America took a moment to process the information he received via ear and stitched it together with the information he received via eye.

"HOW COULD YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME LIKE THAT?" America screamed, being careful not to move and cause himself any more pain. His sapphire eyes were lit with a fiery rage as he glared determinedly at the taller man.

Russia's face turned to one of confusion, but his blush remained still. "Take advantage of you? What are you-"

"You just kicked me while I was down, dammit! More like raped me when I was down!" America proclaimed, tears springing to the corners of his eyes.

There was an almost audible click as everything seemed to slide into place in Russia's mind. It was even apparent on his face.

Then he started _laughing hysterically._

"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?" America screamed, suddenly thankful for the soundproof walls that were installed in his room (as him screaming is an actually normal occurrence). Russia silenced his laughing, but the occasional giggle escaped from his pale lips.

"You thought I had _sex_ with you?"

America blinked, rage disappearing from his face to be replaced with an embarrassed flush. "Well, yeah... I'm in a bed and I'm sore and you were all blushing and something happened last night and and and WHAT THE HELL DID HAPPEN THEN?"

"You were worn out and exhausted from crying about the um… Yes, and you curled up in my arms like an innocent little child. We slept like that." Russia said, finally gaining control of his giggles.

'_So I just embarrassed myself for no reason.'_

Attempting to detract attention away from that fact, America started to mutter something aimed as an insult towards Russia, only to be interrupted by his own stomach growling fiercely.

An idea popped into Russia's head; it was so apparent on his face, the only thing missing was the floating light bulb next to the lighter blond's head. He grabbed the other man's hand dragging out of the bed and towards the door, resulting in a pained hiss from the latter.

"Remind me where the White House kitchen is…"

They ran down the halls and, despite America being the one who was directing them, Russia was adamant in dragging the former behind him. Once they had reached their destination, the taller man looked like a kid in a candy store, immediately bee-lining to the bowls of fresh vegetables that lined the stainless steel work tables. A few members of the kitchen staff were preparing something, and looked up from their work at the disruption.

"Hey, who are you! What are— oh, Alfred?" said one of the cooking men. Such people knew him as an important supervisor to the President, and weren't aware that he was actually a country. They still knew him pretty well otherwise, and were used to him sauntering in and requesting a burger every now and then.

"Oh, hey. Yeah, he's with me. Let him mess around with some of the food for a while; we won't bother you." The men nodded and stole another wary glance at the Russian, who was running around with a bowl to hold the seemingly random ingredients he was grabbing.

"Ame—_Alfred,_ do you know where the beef is?" Russia said, remembering mid-sentence to not use the name "America" when addressing the other.

America felt his face heat up a bit at the use of his human name, but he managed to shrug it off. He pointed to his left and mumbled, "B-bottom drawer." '_It's just… hot in here. Yeah, that's it.' _he thought, when in reality it was much cooler in the kitchen than the rest of the White House.

Within a few minutes, Russia was able to navigate around the stainless steel room with ease, chopping up vegetables while stirring a deep pot full of broth and chunks of meat. America pulled up a stool and sat nearby but still out of the way of the Russian. The latter was chatting away, naming off random facts about the ingredients he was using.

Nearly an hour later, America still didn't have any clue as to what Russia was making, and every time he tried to peek into the pot, he was pushed away. At one point, America had actually managed to glance inside the pot, which was two thirds full with a red liquid. "What… what the hell is—"

"It's not blood, I swear!" Russia exclaimed, spinning around with his spoon in hand that was drenched in a liquid that could have defied his previous statement in any situation. America sat back down in his stool and stared up at the taller man blankly.

"Whatever, I'm hungry. Just finish up soon…"

Russia made a small noise of excitement before turning back around to his pot. "It's almost done anyways." He mumbled, peeking around at the other nation, before smiling and focusing his attention back onto the pot full of the God-knows-what-that-looks-like-blood.

America spun around in his stool for a few more minutes before Russia hit him playfully on the head with his spoon, effectively gaining the former's attention. Two steamy bowls of reddish soup sat on the table in front of the spectacled man, who looked at Russia in hopes of discovering just what was being served.

"Borscht. I know you haven't had it in a long time, if ever, and if I'm correct you've never tasted my cooking before." Russia said, smiling sincerely at America before motioning for him to try it first.

America nearly thought he was hallucinating when Russia's smile turned from the usual fake and creepy-as-hell smile to a natural quirk of the lips that could charm an armadillo out of its shell. He dragged his eyes back to the soup in front of him before dipping his spoon into it and bringing it to his lips.

He stole a glance at Russia quickly, noticing how anxious the other's expression had become. '_My opinion is really important to him'_ said a thought that floated into America's mind briefly before he sipped up the reddish broth.

"Holy shit, Ivan, I didn't know you could cook this well!" America exclaimed, surprised at the wonderful flavor that burst in his mouth. He started spooning the beet-broth and chunks of meat and vegetables into his mouth so fast his tongue was burning.

"Y-you like it?" The other said while much more slowly and calmly eating small spoonfuls of his own borscht. America noticed how Russia's face lit up in gratitude momentarily before the same face turned back to his bowl. "I'm glad…" he murmured.

"Well, of course I like it. It's as good as France's food, if not better!" America said excitedly. He noticed the almost sad-looking half-lidded gaze of the taller man on his bowl, and pressed a hand onto his shoulder. "It's delicious, Ivan. Really." He said, a calm smile resting on his younger features.

Russia looked up, and his slightly morose smile grew into a playful smirk. "Eat the rest of your serving and I might believe you." He said, chuckling lightly.

America promptly started shoveling the now-not-scalding soup into his mouth with gust, practically inhaling the beets and cabbage, only stopping momentarily to chew the bits of meat and beets that were scattered throughout the borscht. Not a minute later, he was lifting the bowl to his mouth to slurp up the remaining broth so fast he almost choked.

"Thank you, Ivan!" he said, thoughtlessly hugging the larger man who had much more slyly finished his serving only moments before.

"E-eh? Oh um… You're very welcome, A-Alfred." He stuttered, letting his arms fall around the other's smaller body.

"Oh, yeah… uh..." America muttered before pulling away and standing up awkwardly, a heated blush coloring his cheeks a shade of pink closely resembling Russia's scarf. "Sorry…"

"N-no it's fine!" Russia said, trying to break the thick silence that fell between them.

America shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, before he mumbled, "Come on, uh, do you want me to show you around some more? I know you haven't seen everything in a while…"

"Da… I would like that." Russia said, the uncomfortable silence slowly dissipating as a shy smile appeared on his face. America bit his lip before letting his lips slide into small smile as well, and neither of them seemed to notice when their hands brushed and their fingers wove together loosely as they walked in peaceful silence down the momentarily undisturbed halls of the White House.

* * *

**Author's Comments:** First off, I would like to thank EVERYONE who is reading this, it seriously means a lot to me that even one person likes it :) And then I would also like to thank the people who are writing reviews that help and reassure me and my writing, thank you so much for that!

Anyways, this was supposed to be out almost two weeks ago (when I got out from school) so I'm sorry it took so long! I've just been so lazy lately, that's honestly my only excuse XD Also, screw the worries of America and Russia being OOC last chapter, I think this chapter is worse ;_; I hope it's still all right! I just think that I automatically wrote some sort of fluffy substance after last chapter having all that angsty-like stuff in it. And then of course I added a little humor there in the mid-beginning, but I have NO idea where that came from.

Hopefully the next chapter will be out in mid-July, and if it's not, then it'll be out sometime in the beginning of August. After that, school's gonna start up again and the updates will be less frequent (not that they're very frequent right now), especially the first few months of school where I have to focus a LOT.

Last little note, I didn't do much proofreading in the second half of it, and if you spot any spelling errors or anything, please be sure to point it out. Also, the description of borscht is how it was when I made it, I've never had it made by someone who's actually Russian so I hope it's all right. Thank you so much :)


	4. Chapter 4

READ THIS NOTE BEFORE READING OR ELSE: The VERY FIRST SCENE of this chapter includes the President of the United States. I know this take place in current times, but I really did NOT want to use President Obama in this, as the President in this chapter is portrayed as a homophobic, controlling, dream-crushing, over-serious asshole who doesn't have a sense of humor. I REALLY don't want anyone to be offended, so just think of the President in this fic to be some jerk, NOT Obama. END NOTE.

* * *

"Ah, hello there Alfred! ...And... Ivan?"

The two nations had round a corner and nearly walked into the President, of all people. The surprised man was now wearing an extremely confused expression on his face, saying, "Alfred, I don't remember there being any meetings with Russia anytime soon."

America's eyes widened a small amount, and only the Russian next to him was able to sense the slight nervous anxiety radiating off of him. "P-personal reasons, sir."

The President looked down and said, "Very personal, as far as I can tell."

The two nations followed the man's gaze to their joined hands and almost immediately there was a foot of space between them. America bit his lip and tried to will to blush off of his face. He attempted to find some excuse, which was rather difficult when he didn't know why they were holding hands himself.

"We were running around the halls and Alfred wanted to make sure he didn't lose me around a corner or something." Russia sent a reassuring glance to a bewildered America, who tried to give a small smile in gratitude.

The President looked suspiciously at the two nations, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. "Regardless of that, Alfred, you shouldn't be goofing off when you still have papers that you need to return to me, completely filled out."

America's stomach clenched, and he wondered if Russia were as uncomfortable as he. "Yes sir, I'll be sure to get those papers in to you as soon as possible."

"Yes, you make sure that happens." said the President, who walked between the nations and down a hall. America breathed a sigh of relief when his commander-in-chief disappeared around a corner.

"So that's how your boss acts around here."America looked up at the Russian, who's face held an expression of what would be pity had it not been for the subtle understanding flickering in his eyes.

"Unfortunately, yes. That man is the definition of 'controlling asshole with a lack of sense of humor' when not in public."

"I understand." Russia said, voice barely rising above a whisper. He moved closer to the American, and, when no protests were made, wrapped his arms protectively around the smaller man. He noticed the dry sobs wracking the younger nation and tried to usher him along back in the direction of his room.

Once they had reached said room, America opened the door and threw himself onto the bed, letting tears flow uncontrolled from his reddened eyes. Russia followed behind, quietly shutting the door behind him and turning the lock. He walked over to sit next to the sobbing form, tentatively resting a hand on his shaking back.

The American instantly sat up and threw his arms around the startled man, who settled with sifting his other hand through wheaty-blond hair. He hummed calming melodies while waiting for the shivering to stop and for all of the others tears to be let out.

"Th-thank you f-f-for bailing... Me out b-back there..." America stuttered, voice scratchy and oddly-pitched from crying. The occasional hiccup wracked the poor man's body, but the tears had stopped flowing and the quiet wailing had ceased.

Russia pried America off of him so he could look into the man's blue irises, which stood out against his puffy red eyelids and similarly colored nose. He still couldn't comprehend just how vulnerable and needy America had gotten, and how he could possibly stand up at meetings without breaking down into tears.

He knew he himself probably couldn't do it if he were in America's position.

He brushed America's bangs from his face, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. When America surprisingly didn't object to the actions that Russia couldn't even describe himself, he pulled the former into his arms again, whispering quiet words of comfort to the smaller man. He waited until the others breathing slowed and eyelids shut before

tucking him into the bed's covers, feeling a sense of déjà vu to when he had done a similar action that morning.

He was about to leave the room before he spotted a pad and pencil on the bedside table. He scribbled a quick note on the pad, before stealing a glance at the now sleeping form. He rested a hand on the man's cheek briefly before gaining control of himself and taking himself out of the room and, ultimately, out of the White House.

_Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeee- SMASH!_

Unfortunately this was the fate of every alarm clock that had the misfortune of ending up on the bedside table of Alfred F. Jones. He stretched his back and sighed when he found that he wasn't nearly as sore as the last time he woke up, which had resulted in a very embarrassing situation with Ivan.

"Hey, I wonder where- HOLY SHIT I'M GOING TO BE LATE FOR THE MEETING!" America said to himself trying to sprint out of the bed before falling flat on his face, discovering that his legs were twisted in the bedsheets. Losing a few precious seconds untangling himself from the sheets, he tried to get to the closet a bit faster, which ended with him running into it with a loud _SMACK!_ He threw open the closet door and nearly jumped out of his old clothes and into a navy blue custom-made suit. While tying his matching tie and slipping into a pair of shiny, new shoes, he mentally berated himself for forgetting that even though yesterday there was no meeting, today it would resume once again.

'_Why didn't I set the alarm?' _the American said, jogging to the bathroom to hastily brush his teeth, when suddenly a rush of hazy pictures entered his mind.

Walking through the White House. Holding hands with Russia. Running into the President with Russia. Being scolded in front of Russia. Getting upset over the President with Russia. Crying next to Russia. Russia's arms around him. Falling asleep in Russia's arms. Russia in _every individual picture._

America spit out all of the foamy toothpaste in his mouth onto the mirror in front of him.

"Dammit! Tony, please please please please clean this up for me, I just don't have the time!" he said, gelling his dirty hair back impatiently before starting to head out the door. He ended up backing back into the room as he registered something on his dresser catching his eye.

He picked up the tiny slip of paper, holding it up to his face. _'A note?'_ he thought, glancing at the neat, even handwriting that still looked as if it were somehow rushed. '_My handwriting's not even that neat when I try...'_ he pouted, before actually reading it.

'Alfred

I'm very sorry, but I really do have to leave to get some sleep at my hotel. However, I will see you at the meeting tomorrow (or today, whenever you happen to read this), which I am greatly looking forward to. I hope you sleep well.

Ivan'

America smiled softly at the use of his human name, let alone the notion that Russia had actually taken the time to write him a note in the first place. He read it over several times before Tony made an alien-like noise from the bathroom, effectively forcing the nation from his thoughts and out the door, where he carefully folded up the note and put it into his pocket.

He hailed a taxi and bided his time in the short commute to the building where the meeting was being held by trying not to think about Russia, which proved to be much more difficult than he had thought it would. He had confided so much in the huge man the past few days that he didn't know who wouldn't worry about it.

It occurred to America as he arrived at his destination that he wasn't actually worrying about Russia at all.

He silently pondered his revelation as he tipped the driver and strode into the tall building and into the empty elevator, where he pressed his desired floor number and tried to ignore the cheesy elevator music. He clenched and unclenched his teeth repeatedly, hoping he wouldn't arrive to the meeting late for the billionth time in a row.

He burst out of the elevator and ran down the hall, skidding to a stop at the door. He exhaled, composing himself and smoothing down his suit before calmly turning the knob and bracing himself for the onslaught of jeering in a multitude of languages that always accompanied his late arrivals.

Instead, he opened his eyes to an empty room.

"H-hello? Is anyone there?" America mumbled, only to be greeted by silence. He checked his watch to find that he wasn't half-and-hour late, but half-an-hour_ early. _Wonderful.

He sat down in his respective chair in the room, marked by a small placard engraved with his name on it that was transported from meeting to meeting. "Oh, of course, I'll just sit here and-"

"Oh, hello there Alfred." a small voice piped from the doorway, disrupting the blond from his thoughts.

Of course he was here.

"Hey, Russia, I didn't expect you to be here so, um, early." he said, twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly.

The larger man took in his seat, which was the same as it had been two days before; right across from the American. He took a sip of what appeared to be a hot coffee. "I could say the same to you. This is quite an interesting encounter, seeing as how we happened to be together only fifteen or so hours ago."

"I slept for _that long?_ Dear God, what is wrong with me?" America mumbled before yawning and putting his head in his hands.

Russia chuckled, a smirk making its way onto his face as he eyed the younger nation. "Oh, there are many things I could name that are wrong with you," he could make out a muffled "ditto" from the other's hunched form, "although the one most apparent at the moment seems to be sleep deprivation."

"I just slept for fifteen hours and you're saying that I have sleep deprivation. You're a freaking genius, Ivan." America bit out sarcastically, lifting his head out of his hands with a sigh.

"Why thank you, Alfred." There was that thing with the names again.

"I was being sarcastic."

"I'm aware."

"I'm aware you're aware."

"Now you're just being a redundant idiot."

"I hate you."

"I'm aware you're aware that no, you don't." Russia said, chuckling.

The blond across from him puffed out his cheeks and pouted, saying, "Don't mock me, it's mean."

"You had it coming." Russia said, teasing expression drifting off as he bit his lip, hesitantly adding, "Here, have some of my coffee. You obviously need it more than I do."

"I dunno, it might be drugged or something." America said taking the cup in his hands and letting the warmth seep into his frozen fingers.

"Without risk, there is no reward." the other said, giggling softly and standing up.

"Huh, whatever." America said, smirking sarcastically and taking a sip. He closed his eyes and breathed in the steam from the cup, feeling the familiar heat work it's way around his body.

"You really like coffee." Russia said _much closer to America's ear than it had been before._ The latter let out a small noise of surprise, not knowing that Russia had made his way around the table to the chair next to his. "Eh? I'm sorry for scaring you." he added, chuckling at the sound the other had made.

"Shut up, I just didn't know you were there." the shorter man said, blush spreading across his face. He kept his blue eyes locked on violet ones as he took another sip of the black coffee.

"I'm sure you didn't. That sound you made was adorable, though." Russia said, smile widening slightly.

America narrowed his eyes and put the cup down, licking his lips saying in the most serious of tones, "You did NOT just use the word 'adorable' to describe the ultimate hero." The paler man burst out in a fit of giggles, trying to maintain eye-contact with the other.

America let a smile slip on his face before he started laughing along. This is two _real _laughs from Russia in twenty-four hours.

_"_Da, America, and I would go so far as to say that _you yourself _are adorable as well." the other said, successfully containing his laughter and softening his tone. He made a small smile and dipped his head submissively, not looking away. America felt his face heat up and his heart beat just a bit faster.

"I don't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment." he mumbled, chuckling nervously. '_Was Russia really that close a minute ago?' _He felt a hand tentatively rest itself on his, as he looked at the other.

"You know, I'm glad that we're... on better terms. We haven't been so close in recent years, politically or personally, and I had always enjoyed being your friend. You're one of the few people that isn't... afraid of me. I really... like being around you, Alfred..." Russia murmured, a small smile on his face. He also seemed to notice how close they were, as his cheeks turned a healthy shade of pink.

America felt himself leaning in and his eyes slipping closed, hearing his heart pound so loud in his chest that he was surprised that the other couldn't hear it. He could feel Russia's breath on his lips, the still-cold hands on top of his own-

_SLAM! _"What the BLOODY HELL is going on here?"

* * *

**Author's Comments: **Oh, I wonder who that could be that would suddenly burst in and ruin Alfred's moment?

I give up, they are MOST DEFINITELY OOC *cries* At least it's for a reason, though. I imagine Al as being more emotionally sensitive, especially when he's already started confiding in Russia. He's just trying to let out all of his tears and such, that's my best explanation for writing him like that. Also, Russia really cares about America here, so that's my best explanation for him being the way he is in this fic.

Holy crap, there's angst, humor, and fluff in THE SAME CHAPTER. I don't usually do that XD. I could have actually had this done a week and a half ago, as I had a writing streak back then. But then my computer broke :/ I still had the file saved on my email as a draft, as I do with all of my fanfiction (it's a good idea if you're computer ever crashes) and I could have typed it on my dad's computer or my iPod, but i wanted to wait until my new computer came in the mail to actually write it (i don't like typing on my iPod of my dad's computer). I WAS SELFISHHHHH. Now I have a MacBook Pro instead of my old Toshiba and it's much more fun to type on :D So here's a long chapter for you people XD

And in case you didn't read the note at the top BEFORE the chapter started, here is it again:

The VERY FIRST SCENE of this chapter includes the President of the United States. I know this take place in current times, but I really did NOT want to use President Obama in this, as the President in this chapter is portrayed as a homophobic, controlling, dream-crushing, over-serious asshole who doesn't have a sense of humor. I REALLY don't want anyone to be offended, so just think of the President in this fic to be some jerk, NOT Obama.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing c:


	5. Chapter 5

_"What the BLOODY HELL is going on here?"_

SHIT.

"Ahaha! Hey there Iggy!" America said louder than he already normally did, pushing himself over to the opposite side of his chair. "Wh-what are you doing here?" he finished, face flushed with embarrassment, eyes wide with alarm. He took one nanosecond of a glance at Russia, who had a hand over his heart and appeared to be trying to recover from his deer-in-headlights expression. His face was redder than the borscht he had made the other day.

"I could ask you the same question. Or, more precisely; what were you doing _with him?_" England retorted, accent becoming heavier by the second.

"Um, well, I... uh..." America was at a loss for words. He didn't even know himself what he was about to do with Russia. Well, actually, he knew pretty well what was going to happen; he just didn't want to come to terms with it. He glanced again at Russia, making eye-contact for a moment, trying his hardest to convey his thoughts that "NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO SAY SOMETHING WITTY AND GET ME OUT OF EXPLAINING THIS TO ENGLAND" to the taller man without saying a word.

England started tapping his foot, impatience scrawled across his face. "You were a centimeter away from the bloody beast, all red and nervous; you can obviously imagine what I believe was happening, and all you can think of in terms of an explanation is 'uh.'" America noted the difference in tone of voice near the end of his statement, one that sounded similar to that a child would make when their mother was giving their sibling more attention.

Suddenly he remembered his current situation. "N-no Iggy, you got it all wrong! I was just... We were..." '_...about to kiss.' _he thought, biting his lip. How could he possibly say that? No, no, he couldn't. And it wasn't just because England was there, either.

"He was just gonna whisper something in my ear, and you happened to walk in at a very unflattering moment. It may have looked like _something else,_ but I can thoroughly assure you, he was just going to tell me a joke or something stupid like he usually does." Russia said, having somehow regained his composure enough to make a smooth comeback in place of the nation beside him. _'Hey, did he just call me stupid?'_

England's upper lip twitched as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, '_similar to the way the President had the day before' _America thought morosely, letting loose a quick sigh. "I'll let you slide with that, although I'll have you know I don't exactly believe it." the shorter man bit out, slamming the door closed and walking towards them. _"Russia," _he hissed, spitting out the name like it would infect him with cancer, "you happen to be sitting in _my_ seat, and I would greatly appreciate it if you moved." America could now easily detect the jealousy radiating off of his friend's body, together with waves of anger and possessiveness.

_' "You think England _likes _me?" "Romantically? Yes. Although I'm not the only one to come to this conclusion. Most of the others who were at the World Conference today have thought the same thing as well." ' _America recalled from several days ago an exchange between himself and Russia.

Well that explained the jealousy, now didn't it.

"Of course, dear England, excuse me for occupying your precious seat. I will be sure to stay in mine for the remainder of the meeting." the taller nation purred, smirking evilly at the objective blond in front of him.

'NOT _the best time to be mocking England, Russia.'_

England stared Russia down (although it was more like staring up, if you take into consideration the height difference) while sitting stiffly into his chair. The air was thick with tension that even a knife couldn't cut. Russia plopped unceremoniously into his own seat, a falsely clueless smile replacing his devilish expression he wore only moments before. America ignored Russia's speedy change in moods and just hoped the uncomfortable feeling in the spacious room would subside soon-

"The Bad Friends have officially graced you with our mere existence before today's meeting~"

_'Never mind,' _America thought, _'give me back the awkward silence.'_

The still-fuming England next to him groaned bitterly. "Of all people to show up and ruin my day even more, it's _Francis."_

"Ah, but _Angleterre_, you still use my name, despite your words that stab me in the very heart!" the longer-haired man said, over-dramatically placing his hand to his chest and looking towards the ceiling. England merely rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, England, and you seem a bit moody today. Not that you ever _not_ seem moody, but you might be PMS-ing today or something. Wanna tomato?" Spain said, munching on a fresh tomato himself.

"The awesome me couldn't agree with you more there, 'Tonio." Prussia said, popping out from behind France, Gilbird and all.

"You've got to be kidding me!" England exclaimed, letting out a distressed sigh and ignoring the PMS accusation. "God must hate me today or something, punishing me with _all three _of them!"

"It's kind of like a package deal;" America piped, trying to keep the nervousness still making his heart pound out of his voice, "buy one, get two free."

"But I never bought _any_ of them!"

France stepped forward and placed a quick kiss on England's cheek before narrowly escaping the hands grabbing at his neck to sit the comfort of his seat, which was several seats away. "I could say otherwise~"

The bushy-browed nation's face bloomed with a red blush as he started babbling incoherently, partially to himself. Everyone knew how easily flustered he was, and it wasn't much of a surprise anymore. Spain plopped the last bit of tomato in his mouth as he found his seat and began spinning around in it. Prussia ran around, talking to Gilbird, short attention-span causing him to have already lost interest in the banter between England and France.

"E-eh, why are you even here, Prussia? You're not a nation!" England said, controlling his blush and ignoring France's proclamations of eternal love.

The albino ex-nation turned to face him, smirk widening. "I'm awesome enough to be at this meeting!"

"I should have expected something inane like that from you." the other mumbled, turning back to the table to tap his pen on the table impatiently.

Slowly but surely, more and more nations trickled into the conference room, which in result, increased the volume of said room. America ignored the tiny paper balls being thrown a minute or so before the World Conference was scheduled to begin to take a look at Russia from the corner of his eye, who he noticed had been extremely quiet since his short exchange with England.

The tall nation had a far-off look in his eyes; his cheeks were tinged a slight pink as he chewed on the tip of his pen and drummed the fingers of his other hand idly. A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips, and his eyes closed in a serene expression. Suddenly, his eyebrow twitched into a frown and sarcastic smirk replaced his calm smile.

America tentatively placed a hand on Russia's still-pattering fingers, freezing them in place and breaking the other man from his odd, trance-like state. Violet eyes locked onto sky-blue, as the shorter blond said, "Is there something wrong, Ivan?" Wait, did he just say-

"Eh, nothing you need to worry about, Alfred. It is not anything of great importance, anyways. Thank you for asking, however." Russia said, letting a handsome smile befall his features. America felt his heart skip a beat again, before he giggled softly ('_Like a freaking schoolgirl'_ he noted mentally) and was about to say something in response before he suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

He looked around him to find that everyone was staring intensely at him, a rare silence blanketing the room. He bolted up to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. "Wh-wh-why is everyone staring at me?" He said nervously, face redder than the new tomato Spain had stopped eating mid-bite to stare at the blond.

"America, you are the host for the World Conference, are you not?" France said smoothly, adding, "You are the one who is supposed to start off the meeting?

America blinked, before blushing and uncomfortably saying, "Oh, uh, yeah! I'm sorry, I got a bit... sidetracked?" He got in return several raised eyebrows and a few whispers among some of the nations; he could even hear a couple of amused chuckles from the far side of the room. The hand that was only moments ago laying on Russia's burned hotter than the time he tried to grab a pan straight out of the oven without any gloves.

He walked to the front of the room, trying (and failing) to steady his nerves before he jumped into the introduction. He felt too many pairs of eyes on him at once, boring holes into just about every part of his face. He skimmed the unusually silent table holding all of the nations with his eyes and felt as though he were shrinking smaller and smaller. He felt specific glares emanating from England and decided to look right over his head when he passed in that direction, resulting in more stabbing stares. Once he had locked eyes with Russia, he wanted both to immediately look somewhere else and maintain eye-contact with the man that had caused him so much embarrassment as of late.

He chose the latter option.

The other nation smiled encouragingly, nodding so subtly that nobody else seemed to notice. America felt a small nudge of confidence edge it's way to his voice, which he noticed got more energetic and commanding. His nervous smile stretched into one of excitement, and he felt his embarrassment recede so much that it disappeared.

Before he knew it, he was done with his opening speech and back into his seat, where he flashed a wide grin of gratitude at Russia, who blushed and nodded his head in silent "you're welcome".

Several hours later, America could have sworn he was dying. Russia kept teasing him and it seemed as though he was _trying _to get the blond across from him in trouble. He still could not get off of his mind what could have happened if England hadn't walked in when he did. It made his head spin every time he thought about it, and that occurred every time he looked at the Russian.

The scariest part of it all was he wanted the opportunity for such a thing to come again. He tried not to dwell on it.

Most of the other nations were still gossiping about the little hand-holding scene they had witnessed between himself and Russia, but he thanked everything he could think of that they hadn't seen what England had.

In fact, he was still troubled by that. He really felt bad for his brother / father-figure, who he knew cared about him in both a paternal and romantic way. For him to think that he and Russia were about to kiss (when, in reality, they actually _were_) must have been a twist of the knife in the shorter man's heart. He noticed that throughout the meeting, England was purposefully doing his best to ignore America, despite sitting right next to him.

Once the meeting had come to a conclusion that did not involve chaos for the first time in what seemed like forever, England stood up and immediately left the room, face having not changed the entire meeting. America quickly grabbed all of his blank notes and papers and ran out the door for him, ignoring Russia's protests.

He had gotten out in the hall and grabbed England by the shoulder, spinning the older nation around to face him. "Look, England, I-" he was cut off mid-sentence form a painful slap to his face from the man in front of him, who he noticed was starting to _cry._

"SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU BLOODY GIT!" he shrieked, his voice going up an octave, as he spun around and dashed down the hall and into the elevator, not once looking back.

America's eyes were wide and glazed over as he stared right at the spot England had just been. Russia came up behind him and tapped his hand, asking a quiet "Are you all right?". The blond beside him turned to face him and bit his lip, seemingly on the verge of tears as well. He looked as though he wanted to bury his head into the man's broad chest and cry like a baby, but instead he gently pushed the Russian away and made his way slowly down the hall, clutching to his papers so tight his knuckles were whiter than snow. He stepped into the elevator, alone, and looking into Russia's eyes with a silent "I'm sorry.".

The violet-eyed nation stood there, reaching to grab onto part of his coat, for just something to hold onto. He hated not being able to help America, just standing there, watching his face turn to a thin strip before disappearing behind the elevator doors.

Both of his sisters walked up beside him and ushered him down the hall, and for once, Belarus gained a momentary handle on her sanity and didn't press her brother on the topic of marriage. They, too, disappeared in the elevator, before all of the other nations that had gathered at the exit of the meeting room started talking in hushed tones about the way that the scene before them had played out the way it did.

* * *

**Author's Comments: **This could have been up at least a week ago, but I wanted to put some space in between the chapters so i didn't feel the need to update every four days XD I'm on my friend's computer because I don't want to try uploading anything on my MacBook until I got Microsoft Word... *sheepish grin* So I kind of have to be quick about the author's comments...

One little word, I now have a second pairing on my list of pairings that I will write for, other than Russiamerica (which is, obviously) already there. In this case it would be PrussiaxAmerica. This is due to a roleplay I am actually doing with the friend who owns this computer right as we speak, and she kind of converted me to that pairing XD Oh, speaking of roleplays, I kind of um.. lost my writing virginity in a different roleplay I'm doing with a Russia cosplayer, so that means I'm much more likely to write smut in a fanfiction now. Just a word of caution XD

Lastly, I would like to thank everyone who is reading this fanfiction; every review and story alert and favorite means so much to me :)


	6. Chapter 6

_...Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing..._

'Seventeen.'

_...Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing..._

'Eighteen.'

_...Ring. Ring. Ring.-_

_'OH SHIT HE'S CALLING THE WHITE HOUSE PHONE.'_

America threw his pen and paper to the side, flying through the air to grab the phone off the receiver before someone else in the spacious building could. He swallowed and sat back on the bed, bracing himself to be screamed at by the person on the other line.

"...A-Alfred? This would be you, yes?"

America opened his eyes, confused by the soft tone being used by the other. "Yes, Ivan. I-It's me."

"Why didn't you answer your cell phone? I called it-"

"Eighteen times." the blue-eyed nation interjected, mildly annoyed at having to listen to the obnoxious ringing _eighteen times._ He hadn't turned it off because he was still curious as to just how desperate the Russian was for him to answer. He had even kept a tally of it.

"Yes, well, why is it that you never answered?"

America sighed softly, looking down. "I... I didn't really want to talk to you. Err, I mean... I wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone, really..." he muttered into the phone guiltily.

"Ah, um... Is it because of the, ah... incident?" America winced, feeling his eyes stinging slightly at the other's words.

"With... E-England?" he questioned, already knowing the answer.

"Da, that would be... what I am talking about."

America blinked the tears out of his eyes, hoping it wouldn't show in his voice. "Th-then yes... of course..."

It went silent on the other line for a few seconds, and America was starting to think that Russia had hung up before his voice returned, even quieter than before. "I- Alfred... Do you, ah…. need me to come over there? I will fly over if you need me to."

America shook his head, regardless of whether the other could see it or not. "N-No, Ivan..." There goes his chance at getting him to hang up, using that name. "I... I don't w-want anyone in my room. I've even told Tony to stay out of the b-bedroom." he said, cursing himself for stuttering like a child who was about to start bawling their eyes out.

Yet again a stretch of silence on the other line, before before the other made a soft noise and said gently, "...Would you like to come to my house, then?"

America could feel his face was a bit warmer than it had been before, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just because of the tears that were threatening to spill out of his eyes. "I-Ivan, I... I couldn't. I can't. I... I just want to b-be alone..."

"Yes, Alfred, but you have been alone for five days now. I... don't like seeing... Ah, hearing you like this. I want to help you."

The blond was stunned at the Russian's persistence. Why did he care so much if he was upset? "I.. Ivan, I don't need any help with anything. I'm p-perfectly fine."

"No, you aren't, Alfred. You have locked yourself in your room for five days straight, you are stuttering, and..." There was a slight pause, before the other's tone became more tender. "...You sound as if you are about to cry."

America's eyes widened and he felt a hot tear roll down his cheek. Why was he so emotional? His chest ached and he curled up on his side on the floor, holding in as many of the other tears as he could. "I-Ivan..."

"Book a flight for yourself and I will call your superior to tell him that you will be in Moscow for four days. Pack your clothes and be at your chosen airport at your chosen time, but get here as soon as possible. You know which airport you need to arrive in-I will pick you up."

America just nodded, still aware that the other couldn't hear him, but he couldn't speak. He felt his throat clench up and all of the tears in his eyes fall down his face, listening for anything more on the other line.

"...Alfred..." Russia said, and it sounded as if he wanted to say something else, but he had kept silent and hung up on the blond.

Said blond slowly stood up, wiping a few tears from his eyes and trying to keep himself from sobbing. He walked over to his closet and pulled out a suitcase, packing it with random shirts and coats and jeans and scarves and anything else he grabbed until it was full, zipping it up and walking to the bathroom. He undressed and took a long, hot shower-he hadn't taken any kind of a bath or shower since the World Conference-letting the water soak his dirty hair and run down his body. Once he had stepped out and gotten dressed, he booked the soonest flight to Moscow from the nearest airport, which would require him to be at said airport as soon as possible.

He got a text message from Russia saying that he had told the President where the American would be, so he grabbed his suitcase and rolled it out of the White House, having already called his driver to pull up around the front.

He arrived at the airport in no time, eventually getting on his flight and staring out the window, the whole time gripping on to the armrest as forcefully as he could without snapping it in half, just for something to consciously do so he didn't cry.

America was woken from a calm sleep when the overhead speakers on the airplane had announced that they had landed. _'H-huh? Where am I, anywa-'_ he thought, blinking the sleep from his eyes before he recognized several Cyrillic words on the airport buildings, one of them saying "Москва". _'Oh. Right.'_

America grabbed his carry-on bag, waiting for several minutes to get off the plane. He walked over to the baggage claim to retrieve his huge, American flag suitcase (which got many strange stares, he noticed).

He pulled out his phone and texted Russia, telling him that he had arrived and was waiting for him next to a specific baggage claim. He deleted the eight or so angry messages from the President, all saying how much he "didn't appreciate America leaving to go to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean on such short notice" and how he "should take into consideration other people's feelings". America chuckled sarcastically, mumbling to himself about how his boss didn't have any feelings to begin with.

All of a sudden, he heard a voice on the other side of the spacious baggage-claim area, yelling his name. He took a few seconds to realize that it was, in fact, _his name_, but by the time he had stood up to see what it was, he was already being embraced by a larger man. "Alfred..." the other whispered, right next to his ear; America would have freaked and broken the man's jaw by now, but he recognized that voice well enough to let himself hug back.

"H-hello, Ivan." America mumbled, closing his eyes and burying his face in the other's cream-colored scarf. He felt the tips of his ears burn in something similar to embarrassment as he pulled away to look the taller nation in the eye. The Russian smiled softly, taking a hold of the blond's suitcase and rolling it in the direction from which he came.

America grabbed his carry-on and trailed just behind the pale man. They were both completely silent as they walked to Russia's car, but once they had both situated themselves inside, the scarved man in the driver's seat immediately began chattering away about nothing, a childish smile curving his lips.

_'He's trying to distract me.'_ the American realized, and he had to say, it seemed to be working. He wasn't bawling like a newborn in the passenger seat of Russia's car, and for that, he was glad. He'd been extremely vulnerable near the other lately, and he was starting to get annoyed with himself for behaving so... differently around him. He was the last person he should want to show this side to.

Although, he couldn't deny that Russia had been doing a pretty good job of helping, so far. He hadn't tried to take advantage of him, or mock him, or use him in any way. He had done anything and everything to try and help America. It seemed that the Russian actually cared.

And then there was that whole business with the... the uh... kiss. That he still avoided touching on, even in his mind.

America felt his face heat up as he stared out the side window, waking up from his own thoughts. Russia was still chattering incessantly about absolutely nothing, subconsciously drifting in and out of Russian, before taking a brief glance at the other.

"America, your face is red. Do you have a fever?" he asked innocently, flicking his eyes back onto the road.

"I, uh... Um, no, Ivan. I-I'm not sick or anything." he stuttered, face going redder by the second.

"Ah, then what's wrong, Alfred?" Russia questioned, switching to the use of human names after America had said "Ivan".

America bit his lip _hard_, before trying to will the blush down. "N-nothing! Nothing at all. I'm f-fine!" he said, a bit too fast; not to mention he was stuttering again. Russia raised an eyebrow at him but decided not to push it.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a small, two-story house. Russia mumbled something about it being "his house for when he's not working", which America accepted. He had several of those spotted throughout his own country, so he wasn't surprised when he heard that the other had one as well.

The large man took America's suitcase and carry-on bags to the front door, which the blond disputed briefly before realizing it was pointless to argue. Once he had taken the other's luggage to the top of the stairs and set them next to a door, he jogged back down the carpeted steps, taking America gently by the hand and leading him into the kitchen.

"I'm sure you must be hungry, Alfred." he said, turning his back to the American and opening the fridge.

"I- Well- Yeah, I guess so." he mumbled, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Russia pulled out a container of ground beef, setting it on the black granite counter and closing the refrigerator. "Would you like me to make you a hamburger?" he asked, cocking his head slightly.

The other blond immediately sat straight up in his chair, a thankful smile stretching across his face. "Hamburger? Yes, please!"

The taller nation smiled determinedly, taking a ball of the ground beef and forming it into a patty shape before turning on one of the burners of his stove, setting a pan on it. He grabbed a bag half-full of hamburger buns, pulling one of them out and laying it off to the side, pouring a tiny bit of oil into the pan, letting it heat up.

America watched with a deep fascination' eyes wide and child-like. Something registered in the back of his mind that not only had the Russian done this before, but he must have recently as well; there were several buns missing from the bag, and those things only last so long.

Russia plopped the patty into the now-hot oil, turning back to the mesmerized American. "Alfred, would you like any condiments on your hamburger?" he asked, trying to get the other's attention.

The blond snapped out of his trance and nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, uh, whatever you have, really..." he mumbled, before smiling teasingly. "...That usually goes on burgers, that is. I have no idea what you weird Russians put on your burgers over here."

The other nation giggled and made an actually genuine smile, bending over and leaning his forearms on the granite countertop. He cocked his head to the side just slightly, catching the golden sunlight from a nearby window in his hair. "So I am only weird; is that it?"

America's mouth fell open slightly, staring at the nation in front of him. _'You're damn attractive too...'_ he thought before his eyes widened even more. Why... What... Why did he... Why the hell did he think that? What the-

The American noticed the other straighten back up, eyes just as wide, face flushed a deep red. He then realized he hadn't thought it. He had _said it._

Oh, _shit._

He slapped a hand over his mouth immediately, the only thing different in the two nation's expressions. The taller of the two turned around and flipped the patty, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out packages of cheese, tomato, lettuce, onions; essentially everything that normally went on a burger.

America sat straight up in his chair, clenching on to the sides of said chair to pretend as if his own hands weren't trembling as well. He couldn't believe he had thought that about Russia, let alone said it.

_'It IS true...'_ he thought, nibbling on his lip. If one were lucky enough to see the Russian when he didn't have that creepy aura around him and was actually smiling, like, really smiling... He was quite an indisputably attractive man. He had flawless skin of a pure, porcelien shade; eyes a color of lavendar that could be warm and inviting (as well as frozen and homicidal, but that's not the point); and if those pale pink lips of his managed to curve into a tiny, genuine smile...

No. There was no way in hell he had a girly little crush on Russia.

_'There was that little fact that you can't deny; you wanted that kiss to happen.'_ the annoyingly truthful part of him said.

Dammit.

America suddenly blinked a few times, coming back to reality, to see a very well-made burger staring back at him. The bun was toasted, and there seemed to be some mustard and ketchup oozing out the sides of the perfectly-cooked, juicy burger that sat under a tiny pile of vegetables.

Where the hell did Russia learn how to cook?

America looked up to his left to see the other standing there, fidgeting nervously with one of the ends of his scarf. "I-I hope it is up to you standards, Alfred..." he mumbled, cheeks dusted a light pink.

"From what I can tell, it looks amazing..." America said, giving the other a reassuring smile and picking up the burger, taking a large, experimental bite from it. His face made a strange expression of concentration until he swallowed, when he immediately grinned widely and looked up at the Russian, exclaiming, "This is fantastic, Ivan! Just as good as the borscht you made me! And it's a BURGER!"

Russia's face lit up, a small smile replacing the nervous grin he was wearing only moments before. "Th-thank you, Alfred." he mumbled, finally letting go of the end of his soft scarf.

America noticed that the other nation was leaning over slightly, giving him a better view of the pale face. His violet eyes were closed in joy; thin, pale lips turned upwards, seemingly brightening his entire face; cheeks flushed with happiness, a healthy pink color.

Just as the blond was about to notice that he had been staring at the Russian, amethyst eyes appeared once again, and he suddenly noticed that they were both leaning towards the other. They stared at each other, not saying one word, before they moved closer by the inch, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

America felt his heart pounding in his chest, half-standing from his seat, knees bent, so close to the other that he could feel the tiny, nervous breaths escaping from the taller man. They locked eyes for one more moment, searching for something they could not name, before both tilted their heads just barely and let their eyelids fall, leaning in that extra bit of space separating them.

Just as their lips barely brushed, a touch so small it was almost a figment of their imaginations, the phone blared loudly on the other side of the kitchen.

_'Goddammit, not AGAIN!'_

_

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_

**Author's Comments: **You guys are gonna kill me for that ending.

AHEM, anyways, um, IT'S FINALLY FINISHED. OHMYGOD. Sorry, I've been trying to finish that ending part for a week now and it only just got done now D: Sorry for the last update ^^;

Updates will be less frequent from now on pfff like they've BEEN frequent because I will be starting high school on Monday D: *nervousnervous* I'll try to update as often as I can, but again... that's not saying too much D:

Also, I have a PrussiaxAmerica fic forming in my head, but there's two notes I'd like to make on that: 1) I will not post even one chapter of it until I have written at LEAST 3 of it's chapters (so no, it's not gonna be a oneshot ;D) and 2) I will not post even one chapter of it until I have gotten further in this fic. I honestly have NO idea when this one's gonna end, but I really don't want to start another one and either give up on this one or feel pressured to write faster for both, and... shit like that, you know?

Anyways, thank you so much for rating and reviewing, it means a lot to me for each and every one ^^


	7. Chapter 7

There was nearly five feet of distance between the two red-faced nations within half of a second, both of their hands going up to touch their lips before they went back to what they were doing as if nothing had happened. Russia walked over to the still-ringing phone and picked it up, pressing the button that would allow him to answer the call. America watched in anticipation, ready to bash his head into the countertop if it were someone unimportant or if it were a wrong number.

_'Oh, if it's a wrong number, I'm going to stab that phone with this fork SO HARD..._

_.-._

"He-hello? Residence of Ivan Braginski. Ivan Braginski speaking... Who is this?" he asked into the phone, a certain, anxious tone in his voice.

"Russia, this is England; let me talk to Alfred." The other speaker said, a certain edge to his voice.

The Russian mentally sighed, knowing that at least it wasn't an unimportant call. "England, how are you so sure that Alfred is here?"

Russia heard America drop a piece of silverware, so he turned to look at the blond. His blue eyes were wide with disbelief, face paler than the Russian's own. The taller man held a finger to his lips, silently asking the other to not make a single other sound. He nodded in understanding, expression not changing at all.

"Well, _Russia, _Alfred did not answer the phone in his bedroom in the White House, the President told me what he was taking a short vacation to Europe, and it happened to not be _my _part of Europe, and he did not answer his cell phone. Surely unlike yourself, I happen to know that when Alfred does not answer his cell phone to me, he is in someone else's company that he does not want me to know about."

Russia sighed softly, responding, "Ah, yes, England. It seems you have done your research. Alfred does, in fact, happen to be with me right now."

"Ivan!" America whined from the other side of the room, staring at him as if he had gone insane.

The taller man ignored the other's dispute, listening to the Englishman speak. "Well, Russia, I would appreciate it if you let me speak to him."

Russia looked over at the other, who had resorted to fidgeting with the end of his shirt and nibbling on his lip. "Ah, I am afraid I can't allow that..."

"What do you mean you can't allow that? That immature CHILD broke my heart, with the likes of YOU nonetheless, and you can't let me speak to him? I am not daft, Russia, I know perfectly well that you two were about to kiss in that meeting room!" the other screeched. Russia looked over at America, who had heard England's entire rant. His downcast blue eyes were dark with guilt, hands clenching the hem of his shirt tightly.

Russia took a deep breath to calm himself, replying, "England. I am quite aware of the situation in the meeting room-"

"Don't give me bullshit, Russia-"

"-but I cannot let you speak to America." he finished after being so rudely interrupted.

England let out a shuddering breath on the other line, saying, "You are testing my patience, Russia."

"Da, and you are testing mine in turn."

"...Russia, you know I love Alfred, correct?"

Russia smirked bitterly, mumbling, "Da, romantically."

"...Yes, well, you must know how _heartbroken _I was when I walked in on you two-"

"England."

"Yes?"

_"He doesn't love you._ Get over it." Russia said, patience on the verge of snapping. He tapped his foot anxiously, trying to keep his temper under control. He looked over at America who was trying to breath steadily, head still down.

"He could have! Eventually, some day, he could have! If you hadn't come along and _seduced_ him, maybe I could've had a chance!" England accused angrily, loud enough for America to hear.

"Oh, so this is all my fault now? And I did _not_ seduce him!" Russia rebutted, clenching and unclenching his idle hand.

"Yes you did! And it's just as much his fault for being selfish enough to think that being with you wouldn't hurt anyone else!"

Russia was speechless at the Brit's words. He glanced in America's direction, watching as a silent tear rolled down his cheek and fall to the floor.

Oh, no, that was _it._

"No, you are the selfish one! You cannot force him to love you, England! You did not make a single move to be in a romantic relationship with Alfred; it is your _own_ fault that he does not love you!" Russia yelled furiously. "And if you really loved him, you'd let him be _happy _with whoever he chose, whether or not it was you."

"Y-you shut up right now!"

"Everything you are saying right now is hurting him! Everything! All you do is insult him and his ideas, especially when he has done nothing to deserve it. All you succeed in doing is distancing him; why would he ever think to love you?"

"H-he was MY colony, NOT yours, Russia." England hissed threateningly, voice dangerously low, not knowing how to combat the Russian's statement any other way.

"Yes, well maybe that is why he chose me over you; because I don't treat him like a colony." Russia retorted without missing a beat, controlling himself enough not to smash the phone into the ground, pressing the END button.

Russia sighed softly, forcing himself to set the phone on the receiver gently before turning to look in the American's direction.

America was staring at the taller nation, blinking away the tears from his eyes. "I- You- Thanks for, uh, defending me, Ivan." he mumbled, sitting up a bit straighter.

"You do not need to thank me..." Russia sighed, rubbing small circles into his temple. "I, uh... I need a moment by myself, if you do not mind.."

America nodded as the taller nation walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, settling down at one end of the couch. He held his face in his hands, letting out a quiet groan. His head was pounding with anger at the Englishman before a realization hit him.

America hadn't denied choosing him over England.

Russia lifted his head up, staring at nothing in particular. Not only had America not denied what he had said, but... Why did he say it in the first place? Why did it make his heart beat faster when he thought about it?

...Why did it make his heart beat faster when he thought about America in general?

_'Too many questions... Too many...'_ he thought, keeping his brain from going into some sort of a system overload. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, feeling his headache increasing again.

Russia heard quiet footsteps approach the couch, and a few moments later he could feel the cushion next to him push down. A careful hand rested itself delicately on his back as America asked, "Are you alright?"

Russia nodded, blinking his eyes open and staring out in front of him. "I should be asking you the same thing..." he mumbled, a tiny sigh escaping from his lips. He knew America must have been more than a little bit upset by the phone conversation between himself and England, and he hadn't done anything to comfort the blond after the fact.

"Oh, no, I-I... I'll be alright." he responded quietly, looking away. A tiny, suspicious thought pricked in the back of his mind, thinking that America wasn't quite okay yet, but he decided not to say anything about it. "I- Well- I'm more concerned about _you_ honestly. Are you okay, Ivan?" America added after a few seconds, rubbing his hand up and down the other's back gently.

Russia closed his eyes for a moment, savoring how the other's comforting gesture felt, before saying, "It is nothing. I'm... Ah, still a bit angry at England."

"No, it's okay. I'm pissed off at him, too." America mumbled, absentmindedly tracing tiny circled in the other's back. "He was talking about me like I wasn't even there, like I couldn't make my own decisions for myself."

The paler blond looked up at the other, trying to analyze what the other had meant. He shifted himself closer to the American, feeling their thighs brush together just barely, making him blush so little it was almost nonexistent. He honestly couldn't think of anything to say, uncurling his fingers and resting them on his own knee.

"...He just doesn't understand that I see him as a brother; that I won't ever see him as anything else. And now he's throwing a hissy-fit because I.. Chose you over him..." he murmured quietly, slowly inching his own hand over to rest itself over the others, hesitantly bringing his eyes up to look into the others.

Russia's heart nearly stopped, feeling as if time had as well, leaning in just enough that their noses barely touched. America rubbed his nose gently against the other's, a small smile on his face, before both men closed that tiny gap between them to press their lips together.

Without interruption. _Finally._

The taller man's violet eyes closed, bringing both of his arms around to tentatively wrap around the other's waist, all of his senses suddenly hyperactive. He could smell the wonderful, indescribably scent coming off of the blond; the kind that naturally brought people closer. He could feel the extreme heat of the American's lips pressed against his own, the warmth spreading through his body like a wildfire. He could hear the other shift around until his arms were situated around his own neck, bringing them closer still. One last thing to test...

He flicked out his tongue, just barely tasting the other's lips. The flavor of the hamburger he had made earlier lingered on his tongue before he registered a natural sweetness that America possessed. It made him press his body closer to the other's, gently letting his tongue lick across his lips again; a tiny, pleasured sound nearly made it's way past his own throat at the taste, wanting as much of it as he could get.

America parted his lips a mere sliver, a hand drifting up to tangle his fingers in the other's thick hair. Russia's tongue slowly entered the smaller man's mouth, an explosion of that wonderful flavor blinding his other senses. He felt the American's tongue hesitantly touch itself to his, sliding itself over it and letting him explore his mouth. Their bodies were pressed together so close that he could feel the blond's heart beating nearly in sync with his own.

And, as soon as it had started, it ended. The Russian pulled back only after his lungs were completely screaming for air. Once they had separated, he noticed they were both panting heavily, their faces flushed a matching shade of pink. America's hand slipped down from his hair, staring into the other's eyes with a kind of intensity he didn't know he possessed. The entire house was dead-silent other than their breaths, neither one wanting to utter a single word.

Suddenly, a tiny smile showed on America's lips before he mumbled quietly, "That was awesome."

Russia giggled softly, the entire atmosphere going from intimate to silly with a few words. He leaned forward, nuzzling the blond's cheek before pressing a small kiss to it, the taste of the other still on his tongue. "Da, it was.." he murmured, rocking back and forth gently with the other in his arms.

They said nothing for a few minutes, pressing small, gentle kisses along each other's faces. Russia let his hands stray from their position around the other's waist, resting on his hips momentarily before smoothing themselves along his chest. He memorized every part of the other's upper body as something randomly occurred to him: He wanted to feel America like this, only without clothes.

He suddenly pulled back, face flushed red, pants feeling somehow tighter than they had before. He stood up off of the couch, back away a few feet. "S-sorry..." he apologized quietly, hands fisting in his own shirt.

America looked up at him curiously, nibbling on his lip, hair in disarray. "Did... Did I do something wrong?" he asked, silently panicking at the Russian man's actions.

Russia shook his head anxiously, thankful for the coat that hid the slight bulge in his pants. "N-Nyet, it is not your fault. I-it it nothing." he stammered nervously, eyes wide.

The other stood up off of the couch, frowning slightly and walking over to the other until they were less than an inch apart, resting a hand on his cheek. "What's wrong?"

Russia shied away slightly from the other's touch, his lower half starting to feel uncomfortable. "I- Ah- Nothing, just..." he mumbled nervously, face somehow becoming redder. "I n-need to go..." he said, backing up a few steps before rushing up the stairs, locking himself in his bedroom to take a long, _cold _shower.

Leaving a very confused America standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

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**Author's Comments: **Yes, I just HAD to screw that ending up somehow. I'm evil like that :D But you can't hit me too hard for it, I mean, I did give you an uninterrupted kiss scene in there ;) It's about time, da?

And as for the beginning... Oh dear me, that broke my heart when I was writing that ;_; And then when I told my England cosplayer about it, I swear she was about to cry. I FEEL SO GUILTY. And I'm sorry for all you USUK fans out there...

Oh, and school has given me WAY less free time than I had previously anticipated. I get home from school, have a half-an-hour break, and then I do homework from then until 10-12 at night. Then I have to go to bed :I Therefore, updates are going to be unfortunately less often, especially since I'll be beginning the first chapter of the Prussiamerica I'm going to write.

And by the way, about the PrussiAmerica... Well, it's most likely going to have a smut in the first chapter. Just sayin'. And with that fic, I'm going to write several chapters of it before I post anything, and I'm probably gonna post the first chapter after/around December. Just a head's up and all :)

Lastly, thank you SO MUCH for all of the reviews and faves and story alerts! Every single one brightens my homework-overloaded day, even if it's only a little bit. Thank you so much!


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